


Natural Habitat

by Lady_of_the_Dawn



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Dawn/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Dawn
Summary: Damian Wayne had a lot of sketch books. Every one of them was the same, as he bought all of them from the same store.Short fic exploring Damian's art.





	Natural Habitat

Damian Wayne had a lot of sketch books. Every one of them was the same, as he bought all of them from the same store.

Spiral bound, black leather cover. When you opened one, the price of paper on the right would contain a drawing. On the page on the left, you could find the title, the date it had been drawn, and occasionally an explanation. Every once and a while it would also have the picture used as a reference point taped to it.

When he had lived with his mother and grandfather, in the League of Shadows, he had not been permitted to draw, or do art of any kind. But after moving to the Manor, he had been able to do many things he had not been able to before.

The first black book had been given to him by Grayson when the two of them had been the protectors of Gotham. He had heard Damian waking from his nightmares, giving up on sleeping and training when everyone else slept, and suggested Damian write the night terrors down if he was unable to talk about them. 

But Damian had discovered that he was as good at writing his feelings as he was talking about them. The 'entries' in the journal sounded like a mission report. Stiff and unfeeling. It didn't help at all.

But one night, long after his father had returned and Grayson returned to Bludhaven, Damian awoke from a dream of his mother standing over him, holding a bloody knife which she had just removed from Damian's stomach. It wasn't even remotely close to how he had actually died, but it was still a recurring one.

The boy wonder had reached for the book, but instead of words, a picture emerged. It wasn't very pretty, but when he was done, he felt better. The next time a nightmare struck, he drew it as well.

Eventually he evolved from drawing just the horrors that woke him at night, to other things. He became quite good at it.

Even better, his new found family did not judge him, or discourage his new pass time.  They did the opposite, in fact.

Damian did try other forms of art, though drawing remained his favourite. Cain gave him a pack of colored pencils and some of his drawings gained color. 

So yes, Damian Wayne had a lot of sketch books. But of all the drawings he had put down on them, the ones he was most proud of was a collection of black and whites titled Bats And Birds In Their Natural Habitats. Each of the eight pieces had a picture, normally taken stealthily on Damian's phone, taped next to it. They had been used as a reference point.

The first was Alfred Pennyworth, pulling a sheet of cookies from the oven. He wore the oven mitts given to him on Father's day.

The second was Bruce Wayne at the breakfast table. He was wearing what Brown called his Done™ face. It had been right after Todd had 'accidentally' blew up the microwave. The third one that month. 

Dick Grayson, upside down on the rings in the gym, face covered in sweat, eyes closed.

Jason Todd in his favorite chair in the library, reading Shakespeare, completely and totally immersed in the play.

Tim Drake at his desk in his room, fast asleep on his laptop, papers scattered around him, coffee cup still griped in his hands after pulling three all nighters in a row.

Then the girls. 

Barbra Gordon in her wheelchair, laptop in hand, head set on, ready for a night of saving the world.

Cassandra Cain in lose sweatpants and a t-shirt, doing ballet, headphones on, which were playing heavy medal rock music, not that the picture could show it. 

Stephanie Brown in her uniform, cowl pulled back after a night patrolling. Lounging in a chair, legs kicked up on the table, mouth open, about to deliver some hilarious insult.

Damian Wayne had a lot of sketch books, bit his favorite was the one that was filled with his family.


End file.
